


Playing God

by Im_Chamsae



Series: The Worlds of Stephanie Brown [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Supernatural
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Death has favourites, Death has his darlings, Freeform - Death, Resurrection, Stephanie Brown Needs a Hug, Stephanie Brown is Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_Chamsae/pseuds/Im_Chamsae
Summary: Stephanie greets Death like an old friend.
Relationships: Billie (Supernatural: Form and Void) & Stephanie Brown, Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Death
Series: The Worlds of Stephanie Brown [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756969
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Playing God

**Author's Note:**

> Not related to ‘Super Natural’ where Stephanie Brown is a prophet.

He was an entity as old as time itself.

If one was to ask him who was older, him or God? He, himself, would not be able to confidently answer that question because it had been just that long. He had watched numerous civilisations and empires thrive, and many more fall – he been around for every single little thing, event or moment that had ever occurred on this measly tiny excuse of a planet.

And he’d like to think that he had seen everything that mankind and humanity had to offer, yet nothing could have ever prepared him for the bright blue-eyed little girl that had suddenly barged into his life.

It had occurred unexpectedly, with such a small trivial action as well.

As he felt a light tap against his ankle, his old aged eyes found themselves staring down at the little purple plastic ball that had rolled over to his feet. A child’s toy, how peculiar to find in a setting such as this.

Immediately, he spotted the young girl.

She stood off to the side, watching him with a slight hit of reservation in her lively blue eyes. Her short blonde hair was pushed back by a purple headband, one that matched the shade of the dress she wore. She bit her bottom lip nervously, staring at him as he picked up the item.

As he did, he held it up for her to see. “Is this your ball, little one?”

It seemed ridiculous to him to ask considering that they were essentially the only two people in sight, but there was nothing wrong with making sure. After all, he was well aware how humans always seemed to leave items, mementos and gifts behind in places like these, so why not a child’s ball as well? It didn’t seem like too much of a stretch from the truth.

The young girl nodded at him, yet she didn’t dare budge an inch from where she stood.

So, he held it out for her, gesturing for the child to take it.

She hesitated for a moment, pausing to ponder but she soon made her way over to him, her small hands taking the ball from him with two open palms. “Thank you, mister.” She told him, softly.

He nodded, letting his hand drop back down to rest on his walking stick. “You’re very welcome.” He told her, earnestly as he watched her hug the ball in her arms. “Where are your parents?” He could not help but ask. The child before him looked barely five years old, and yet, he did not sense any other soul around other than herself.

“Momma’s still inside praying with all the other big people in the main hall and daddy is working.” Answered the child, politely.

“And they left you here, to wander around by yourself?”

Her wide blue eyes dropped to the ground before she shook her head slowly. “No, momma left me in a room with all the other little kids to play with but I don’t like them very much.” She admitted, “they always like to say means things to me. So, I always go away before we enter the playroom and come out here with my favourite ball.”

“And what makes you think that this is a place for playing, child?” He asked her, curiously. He gestured for her to look around them.

The young girl did. Her blue eyes scanned over rows of headstones, angel statues and grave marks that rested in the surrounding area around them before staring back at the old man dressed in black. He sat patiently on a dark wooden bench; the long-withered branches dangled down from the great big yew tree that stood behind him.

As she took one quick look at the cemetery once more, she could not help but feel a little confused. “I don’t know, Mister.” Responded the blonde, quietly. She really didn’t. To be honest, she didn’t think much about whether she was allowed to play here or not. “I just wanted to get away from them. I just wanted to be left alone.” She bit her bottom lip as it began to quiver.

He sighed to himself. “Don’t cry,” he told her, gently. “I was not scolding you. I was merely asking a question.” His voice was more soothing now as he watched the young child nod, her hands moving to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“What’s your name, child?”

“My momma said I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” He scoffed at the irony.

At her response, he could not help but feel the corner of his lips curl upwards in amusement. “Well, we’ve been talking for quite a while now; I’d hardly say we’re strangers anymore.” He said, before quickly adding, “you may call me ‘Mister’ or ‘Sir’.” He told her. “Now what may I call you?”

“I’m Stephanie,” she told him, a small smile on her lips.

“Stephanie.” The name rolled off his tongue with ease. “Well, how old are you, Stephanie?”

“Four and a half.”

“A half?” He asked, a brow raised.

Stephanie nodded, confidently. “It’ll be my birthday soon.”

He shook his head before informing her, “there is no such thing as half a year my dear. Only a year, and a complete year.” He told her.

The blonde girl pouted, mildly upset that her age had gone down by half a year. “Well how old are you then, Mister?” questioned Stephanie.

At that, Death had to pause.

My, now that was a good question. A very good question indeed.

“This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that’s barely out of its diapers.” He said, humming to himself before looking at her, holding her gaze in his. “I’m old, Stephanie. _Very old._ ”

“Like my daddy?” piped up Stephanie.

Hah. Death shook his head before tapping his own head lightly, “think much older, child.”

For a moment, Stephanie tilted her head to one side. A sudden thought taking over her head. If Mister was older than her daddy, then maybe he would know more about those things that the other big people always talked about inside the Church. “What do you think Heaven is like?” She asked him, abruptly.

The question itself had caught him off guard, but considering the youthfulness of human children and their ever-curious nature about the world around, he was not surprised.

“Heaven,” he said, the name itself rolled off his tongue distastefully. He frowned. “What do _I_ think it’s like?” Stephanie nodded, her excited eyes staring back at him, intently awaiting his answer. He chuckled at that, “think? I know so, child.”

When he thought of Heaven, he could not help but remember those pesky little Angels and the hierarchal order they had in place, how so self-entitled they were. But if you were to talk about the place itself, he supposed she was inquiring about the human heaven… Well then, he could say that it was not too bad. “It is an interesting place, not that I have ever been there myself but I do believe that every human like yourself gets your own form of ‘heaven’.”

At that, the blonde girl perked up. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“And what about hell?”

Ah.

Well, “Hell is not as nice.” And that was as far as he would go. No need to get into all those nasty little details of torture, he’d spare her the graphics. No need to give the child bedtime nightmares now, he was not that cruel.

As he watched the young girl, he could not help but note how Stephanie’s gaze seemed to drop to the ground, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. “The other kids always tell me that because my daddy is a bad man who is going to Hell, I will be going to Hell too when I die.”

So that was why she had always snuck away to the cemetery to play.

“Well, that’s utter nonsense and you should not believe them.” He told her. “They know nothing about Hell.” Or how it worked for that matter.

Stephanie pouted, the young child looking back at him. “But I’ve heard some of the other parents say to momma that bad people go to Hell and that Purgatory is where people wait before we go to Heaven.”

At the latter half of that statement, Death wanted to laugh.

‘Purgatory is where people wait before we go to heaven?’ Please, he could only really think of one thing when he thought of Purgatory and that was those nasty little carnivorous parasites – the Leviathans. ‘Waiting to go to Heaven?’ He rolled his eyes at that. Please, there was a reason why God had locked them away in the first place. They were much too damaging to the social ecosystem on Earth, too dangerous to let loose. Frankly, they had been rather amusing to watch in his opinion, but besides that.

“Well they’re very, very wrong, Stephanie.” He informed her, before adding. “About Purgatory at least.” He hummed to himself before he smiled. A small idea coming to mind. He glanced over at the young child, “would you like to know what Purgatory is truly like?”

Stephanie nodded. Death scooted a bit to aside, patting at the empty spot beside him for her to sit. The blonde climbed up into the seat, he watched until he knew that he had captured her full attention.

“Now, listen very closely little one,”

He did not know what had urged him to start telling her these stories about the world, nor why he found himself waiting on that bench beside the old yew tree, tucked away in the corner of Gotham City’s local cemetery every Sunday morning. But what he did know was that this little young girl brought him a freshness of air that he had not felt in a very long time.

She was loud, but not too overbearing loud. She asked him questions, but not the stupidly ridiculous ones that most children her age would turn to. He had found that he rather enjoyed her company, something he never thought he’d ever say in the sinful wasteland of a city that was Gotham had become. And he relished in knowing that she too preferred his presence as well.

They had fallen into a sort of pattern.

Meeting under the yew tree every Sunday, where he would tinker that old brain of his and tell little stories about what he could remember about this sad little planet.

When she had asked if he had met God before, he had not batted an eye when he said ‘no’. After all, only the Archangels have seen God before, yet he did not hesitate to admit that he would love to meet God eventually – to reap his soul of course, but Stephanie did not need to know that last part.

Like all good things, soon their little weekly meetings had to come to an end as the young girl was to start school soon. He supposed he should have expected it. As he watched her return to her mother inside the local Gotham Church one last time, he could not help hope to see her again. But not so soon, please.

Now that would truly be unfortunate.

* * *

He had been taking a stroll in New York City when he felt it. A small tingle of a soul that had needed to be reaped, but as he paused mid-step, he could not help but sense that there was also something else to it – a hint of familiarity. He knew this soul.

“Sir,” he grasped a wrist in his palm, catching the on-duty Reaper by surprise.

“I will handle this.” He spoke, his tone calm as he released his grasp on Billie’s wrist, sending the female Reaper a nod of dismissal. Understanding, Billie took one last glance at the young child before disappearing herself.

He stared down at the young blonde girl dressed in her nightgown, merely six years old in age, who was stood across him dazed. She was ogling down at her own lifeless body. When she had glanced back up at him, her brows knotted together in confusion. As he looked at her, he could see that she had gotten slightly taller from the last time they had met two years ago, but aside from that – very little had changed.

From the way her body laid between the foot of her house staircase and his feet, he knew that her little body had taken a nasty tumble down, one that took a turn for the worse from the wound at the back of her head. A small pool of blood now forming beneath it.

He sighed, “I had a tingle that I’d be reaping someone very, very soon, but I did not expect that it would be you.” He spoke, crouching down to the young girl’s level.

She glanced up at him, uncertainly before looking back down. She was lost. Was she… dead?

“What happened, Stephanie?” He asked her, delicately.

She bit her bottom lip, “I woke up because Daddy finally came home, and I wanted to talk to him,” began Stephanie, her face scrunching up slightly, “but he was walking funny.” She told him. “I tried to talk to him, but he was really angry when he saw me up.” Her small hands grabbed the helm of her nightgown. “He didn’t want to talk to me saying that I’m in his way, and he…” She trailed off as her blue eyes silently stared back at the top of the staircase.

He did not need to know any more, he could already guess what had happened here.

Her own father had pushed her down. Unintentional it may have been, but considering that the Arthur Brown did not even bother to check on his own daughter, it spoke volumes of how much he cared about his own flesh and blood. And her mother, he felt her presence in the house but Crystal Brown had not come out to check the source of a noise at all, instead, she was in a deep sleep. One that was probably induced by her little bad habit.

How tragic this was.

“Stephanie,” the young child glanced back at him. “Look this way.” He instructed as he held up a single finger in front of her. “Now close your eyes.”

Whether it had been as an act of mercy or out of pity, Death could not say. What he did know was that it was a true tragedy what had happened to young Stephanie, something that the young girl did not deserve. So, he saved her.

He returned her soul to her body and gave her another chance at life. Was it perhaps selfish on his part to do so? Maybe so. Did he care? No.

If the Angels could play with the Winchester fates and make John and Mary Winchester meet to have their perfect vessels for Michael and Lucifer, then why could he not undue the death of this one little blonde girl for his own selfish desire?

He placed a hand on Stephanie’s unresponsive form before pulling away as he felt her soul resettle in its home.

One moment she had been looking at Mister’s finger like he had told her to, the next she was lying on the floor of her home, the older man crouched down beside her. He held out a hand for her to take, Stephanie grabbed a hold of it as he helped pull her up to her feet as he stood up on his own.

“Are you alright?”

Stephanie nodded, her blue eyes noticing the small pool of red on the ground. Instinctively, her hand reached to touch the back of her head but she found nothing. “Yeah,” she said before smiling up at him. “Gee, thanks Mister.”

“You are very welcome.” He supposed he should leave now; he had done enough as it is. He turned to leave, only to feel a small tug at the back of his black coat. He paused, “yes?” Glancing down, questioningly.

Stephanie grinned up at him, “we should go get waffles, Mister.”

He raised a brow, his eyes moved to look at the clock behind her. It was almost 6am.

“Is it not too early?”

Her grin only widened as she shook her head, excitedly. “It’s never too early for waffles.” She ran up the stairs, reaching the top before she yelled down at him, “I’m going to change. Don’t go anywhere, Mister.”

“Did I just let a child tell me what to do?” He could not help but mutter to himself in mild disbelief.

Within the next half an hour, Death found himself looking around at the place called O’Shaughnessy’s.

“Interesting choice.” Noted Death, his attention turned to the menu before him as he flipped it open.

“Yep!” exclaimed Stephanie, happily. “The food’s real cheap here! And I like the waffles too.”

“I see.” He was not surprised by her admission.

“You should try the cheesy sticks; the cheese comes out really stretchy when you pull it.” Said the blonde girl, pointing out to the specific item on the menu.

He raised a brow, “stretchy?”

Stephanie grinned as she opened her hands out wide to emphasise her point. “Uh-huh, like really, really stretchy.”

“I see.” Said Death before turning to the waitress that had come over to take their orders. “One cheesy sticks set then, please.”

When the waitress left, he could not help but watch the child sitting before him.

She kicked her legs back and forth excitedly; it was almost hard for him to believe that she had been dead less than half an hour ago. If she had realised it, she was doing a very good job of denying it.

“Do your parents take you here often then?” He asked her.

She didn’t turn to look at him, instead, her interest was more focused on the kitchen that was alive behind the counter. “Momma used to, but then she stopped so I started coming by myself.” She told him.

“And they let you?”

Stephanie nodded as she finally glanced back at him. “Well, it’s not that far of a walk, but it’s much faster in your _car_ , Mister.” She giggled as she emphasised the last part.

Ah yes. He himself found it amusing, “well, my _horse_ is quite fast.”

The blonde girl shook her head before pointing outside to the window where his 1959 Cadillac Series 6200 Coupe was parked outside. “That’s not a horse, mister. It’s a car!” She may have been young, but she knew what a horse was when she saw one.

Death chuckled to himself, “of course it is.”

It may be an automobile now, but once upon a time, his transport had truly been a horse. Despite all the years that have passed by, and the change of time, he would always see it as what it always has been – his horse.

When it was time for him to take her home, he drove her back in his car, pulling the vehicle up in front of her house.

“Thanks, Mister.” Said Stephanie, the young girl smiling up at him as she unbuckled the seatbelt of the passenger seat. “It was really nice to see you again.” She told him, honestly.

He agreed before pausing, he could hear the voices inside her home. It appears that her mother has found the dried blood patch. “It was, Stephanie. Your mother is calling for you.”

The blonde nodded, turning to open the door. “I better go then.” As she got out, she gave him one last wave. He returned it with a single raised hand.

As she ran up to the step of her front door, it flew open to reveal one panicked Crystal Brown.

Seeing her daughter, Crystal Brown never felt so relieved as she dropped to her knees and gathered her young daughter into a hug. She was safe. As she cupped her daughter’s face, she could not help but once again let out a sigh of relief. She was alright, and alive. “Stephanie! Where were you?”

“With Mister.” Answered her daughter, pointing back to the front where his car was parked. “He’s right over there?” Or at least it had been.

Crystal shook her head; she was tired enough from all the terror and panic that this morning had already brought. She did not need to deal with her daughter’s insistence of her imaginary friend now. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Stephanie. I don’t see anybody. Come, let’s go inside.”

From his car, he watched her enter the safety of her house before calmly driving away.

* * *

He supposed he should have expected it, he always did get the impression that she would grow up to be a rather rambunctious child. She had always displayed such exuberant reactions to his stories when she was younger, she had struggled to sit still at times. But still, even this was a stretch from his expectations.

“You really are something else, dear child.”

Death stared up at the rooftop of the Brown home, and then back to the eight-year-old blonde girl sprawled out by his feet.

Her blue eyes shifted to look at him. “It hurts all over.” She whispered, her soul still lying in its very much dead body. He wondered if she even noticed that she was dead, but he didn’t speak a word.

Instead, he crouched down again, bring his hand to her face. “Hush,” he spoke, calmly.

With a simply tap on her forehead, she was restored to normal once more. Her body instantly healed and her soul very much fully intact. With two hands, he helped the young girl up to her bare feet, sighing as he stood back up.

Stephanie shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, refusing to meet his eye as her blue eyes dropped to the ground. Without needing to look up, she could already tell that he was not pleased in the slightest.

“Now exactly what were you doing up there, Stephanie? I don’t imagine that the rooftop is now a new ideal place for children to play at, unless the times have changed quite drastically.” Said Death, in a critical tone.

The blonde girl scuffled her feet; her hands tucked behind her back. “I was waiting to see if I could see Batman.” She admitted, shyly.

“Batman?” Stated Death, plainly before the image of a young orphan’s grief-stricken face flashed familiarly in his mind. “Ah, _that_ young gentleman.”

The orphaned Wayne heir.

Yes, Death did recall reaping the young boy’s parents quite a number of years ago. Thomas and Martha Wayne had indeed been very reluctant to leave at first, but even they understood that even they could not run away from Death forever.

Stephanie perked up, finally look up to meet Death’s eye. “You know Batman? What’s he like?” asked the blonde, excitedly.

He scoffed, “I know of him.” He told her. “I have not met him, yet,” ‘Maybe once he stops escaping death.’ He couldn’t help but notice the expression of absolute admiration that had draped itself onto the blonde child’s face, he frowned.

“He’s not a good man, Stephanie.” At that, her expression flattered as she stared up at him, confused.

“But he saves people.”

“But at what cost?”

In a city like this, accidents could happen and sometimes you just couldn’t save everybody, no matter how hard you tried. Death was inevitable – everybody had to die someday.

Seeing that he had made the young girl unhappy, he sighed before holding out a hand for her to take. “Come, you must be hungry.” Reluctantly, she took it and they soon found themselves outside O’Shaughnessy’s. If she had noticed the sudden change in scenery, she did not say anything about it.

From the seat across her, he placed his knife and fork down. It was clear from the way the blonde was pushing around the food in the plate that she was distressed. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not hungry.” Answered Stephanie, she didn’t meet his eye. Instead, opting to look at the cut waffle piece she was pushing about.

“But you love your waffles.” Said Death, picking up his utensils again, holding them in his hands.

“Yeah… but not now.” She continued to push her food about.

Death sighed; he just didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. If she was mad at him for speaking the truth about Gotham’s Dark Knight, then he was not sorry, and she was not going to get an apology out of him. He spoke his truth; he was not going to take it back.

“Come now child, don’t play with your food.” He chided her. “It is proper manners after all. Finish your food like a good little girl and then I will take you home for the night.” With that, he sent her a pointed look before digging back into his own plate of waffles, popping a piece of sugary goodness into his mouth.

Stephanie let out a huff, but she did as he said; finally moving to finish her meal like he told her to.

* * *

When Death had first heard about Arthur Brown from Stephanie, she had always painted an impression of a man who simply had tried his best to succeed in life, but just had the worst luck with life at the end of the day. He was a rather subpar but a decent enough father from what he had heard the blonde girl tell him. Of course, she had just been merely four years old at the time, and still alive.

Since the first instance when he first resurrected Stephanie Brown, he could already tell that he was very much so, looking forward to reaping one Arthur Brown’s soul once the time called for it. The already established loathing only intensified ever much more so on a night during her twelfth year of life, when he once again found her soul lingering outside of her cold dead body.

It had not been a pretty sight.

“Again?”

Startled, the blonde girl whipped her head around to stare at him. He stood off to a side, his hand resting on his black walking cane as he stared down impassively at the body. “How did you?” The words flew out of her mouth before her blue eyes widened at a startling realisation. “Wait, you can see me?”

She had called out to people, screaming at the top of her lungs for help when she had first come to but no one came. It was as though none of the people that had walked past seemed to hear her, it was as though she hadn’t been there at all. She had tried to reach out to them, catching one of their coat sleeves, only for her fingers to slip through. No matter how hard she had tried, it was as though she had been invisible to them.

“My dear, I will always be able to see you.” He assured her. His eyes narrowing slightly as he took a closer look at the rather deplorable sight. “What happened, Stephanie?”

At that question, the blonde girl bit her bottom lip anxiously, recalling the events of last night. Where did she even begin?

Nervously, her hands found each other as they entwined together, fidgeting. “My mom was too sleepy to cook dinner so dad took us out, just the two of us.” Began Stephanie. “He brought us over to that bar over there, he said he wanted to meet with his um, friends.” She pointed across to a shorter building across the street, the words ‘My Alibi’ were painted across the side of the wall.

A criminal’s bar. Death was not impressed but did not speak a word, choosing to let the young girl finish her recollection.

“We stayed until it was pretty late, so he said that I could sleep in one of the chairs first. He said that he would wake me up when it was time to go.” As she finished the sentence, her expression turned hurt as she was close to tearing up.

“But he left you.”

Stephanie silently nodded before continuing, “the waitress said he was pretty drunk when he had left. She was the one who found me when they were closing up.” She told him. “I left and tried to walk home but someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me into here.” Her voice grew quieter as her arms found themselves around her body, hugging herself. Her voice was beginning to waver now, but Stephanie kept going, too far deep in her remembrance to stop. “They had a knife and kept asking me for money but I didn’t have any, so they got angry and…”

She didn’t dare say it, and she didn’t have too. It was easy enough to guess from the multiple stab wounds that were littered across her motionless body. She had been murdered in blind rage in a mugging gone wrong, that had been evidently clear enough to him.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” She whispered; her blue tear brimmed eyes never once leaving her own emotionless face, where her eyes were still wide open.

He placed a gentle palm on her shoulder, “Stephanie, look at me.” The young girl turned, he held her shoulders as he held her gaze with his own. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to say.” He told her. “When you open your eyes again, I won’t be here but I want you to do exactly as I say.”

‘Open my eyes?’ “What do you mean?” asked Stephanie, confused.

He didn’t answer her question.

“You’re going to wake up and find yourself lying down on the floor of this very alleyway. Now, I want you to go straight home, don’t stop for anyone or anything. People might stare at you, but you won’t care, alright? You need to get home; your mother must be worried sick about you.”

She was so lost. What was he going on about? “I don’t understand.”

Death sighed exasperatedly, dropping his hands from the blonde’s shoulders. “I cannot answer you right now but if you have any questions, I’ll be waiting underneath for you under the old yew tree behind the local Gotham Church on Sunday morning.” Stated Death, before bringing his hand up to her forehead. It hovered for a second in front of her, pausing as her blue eyes meeting his one last time. “You know where to find me.” He touched her forehead, returning the soul to its rightful place.

As her blue eyes flickered open, she immediately sat up, finding herself sat down on the ground of a dirty alleyway. For a moment, she thought she could have been dreaming, but the instant her eyes fell on the bloodstains and rips in her clothes, there was a churn within the pit of her stomach.

That had been no dream.

Last night had truly happened, and just at the thought of it, she felt a chill prickle down the back of her spine. That man… As she glanced around her surroundings, she did not see him in sight but she could not help but get the feeling that he was somehow still watching her. She didn’t know how, she just knew.

She needed to get home, now.

He watched her slowly get up to her feet, never once moving from the spot that he had been standing in the entire time. He would not help her, not this time. She was old enough now to get up on her own, he would not spoon-feed her like he had in the past. In less than a year from now, she would turn thirteen and become a teenager. And perhaps it was time that he started treating her like one, it may be for the best.

After all, she was growing older now. Death knew that it wouldn’t be long now before she would start asking questions, questions that he had always previously been able to misdirect due to her childhood naivety and ignorance. But she had very clearly died last night, something that the blonde understood well. And resurrection did not just simply happen out of thin air, especially when an old man just touches your forehead.

He would not be surprised if she was to discover his true identity from what just happened, but if she had any questions for him, she knew where to find him.

Come Sunday morning, he sat beneath the old yew tree, sitting patiently for the young blonde girl to come.

But at last, she never came.

* * *

The next time Stephanie Brown had found herself in another out of body experience, staring down at her own body was at fourteen years old, and during her relationship with her older boyfriend, Dean.

It had been an accident.

Dean hadn’t actually intended to hit her, and it wasn’t exactly his fault that she had tripped and knocked her head against the side of the cabinet. It was just bad luck, that was all. At least, that was what she had tried to tell herself as she stared down at the gashing head wound that was starting to bleed out.

“Really?”

She guessed by now she shouldn’t be surprised to see him.

As she stared at the old man in black who had suddenly appeared before her, she opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a single hand. He looked tired, done with all this bullshit. She didn’t blame him. She would be too if she had been in his shoes.

Within seconds, she had found herself back in her own body again. Sitting up, she felt up the back of her head, only to learn that the head wound was gone. Like always, he had healed her completely again. Stephanie bit her bottom lip, getting up to her feet as she didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks.”

He didn’t speak, opting to wait and see if the blonde teen would say anymore. When it was clear to him that she wouldn’t be speaking anymore, he sighed, glancing over to the clock on the wall. “It’s almost lunch time now, perhaps you’d be interested in joining me for a meal at O’Shaughnessy’s?”

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then again, she knew that she couldn’t exactly run away from him forever. She might as well act civil to the man, after all, he had saved her life various times now.

“Sure.”

She didn’t know how he had done it, or why she hadn’t questioned him about it before. Seriously, how had she not noticed all those times that he had teleported them to the inside of O’Shaughnessy’s without even a lift of a finger? Sure, she had been young, but she’d like to think that she would at least remember the feat.

“Is there a problem?” Asked Death, his being already sat down into one of the window booths that had they had always frequented in whenever they came here. The pizza menu open in his hands as he scanned the latest fast food lunchtime offers.

Stephanie shook her head, “um, no.” She took the seat across him, picking up a copy of her own menu to look at.

It was a little while later, after their food had been served when she had decided to break the ice. It was quiet, much too quiet for two people who had known each other as long as they had to be silent. There was just so much that she wanted to asked him, but for now, she would settle on simple pleasantries. “It’s been a while… how have you been?” asked the blonde, nervously.

“I was enslaved by a bratty child having a tantrum.” Stated Death, flatly. Just the reminder of being bounded to God’s first fallen angel irked him to no end. As much as he would have loved to rant about his unlucky time being bind to Lucifer, he did not bring her here to talk to about his problems, no, he came to talk to her about her problems. More specifically, one big one. “That boyfriend of yours, Dean,” said Death, plainly. “Break up with him.”

“What? No,” exclaimed Stephanie in response. “What happened last night, it was just an accident, he didn’t – “

Death looked up, his gaze holding hers in his own as he spoke. “Stephanie,” She froze at the coldness of his tone. “Nothing lasts forever. Well, I do.” Explained Death. “But what he did to you last night, it is not forgivable and you are not fooling anybody. I know that last night was no accident, nor was it a one-time occurrence, so stop lying to yourself and see the bigger picture.” He told her, pointing a finger at her. “If you were smart like the child that I once believed you to be, you would be the bigger person and leave him. Soon.”

“And why should I listen to you?” Snapped back the blonde, a bit irritated by the audacity of this man to tell her how she should be living her life. It was bad enough that she was already getting this crap for her parents, she didn’t need to hear it from him too. Especially when he only came and went in and out of her life in brief moments at a time. What right did he have?

“Because I know best.”

Her blue eyes narrowed, “but I love Dean.”

At that, he scoffed. ‘Honestly.’ “What do you know about love, child?” questioned Death. Stephanie was about to response, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak because he continued. “Clearly not a lot because all I see is a young, naïve disillusioned teenage girl going through an unnecessary rebellious phase against her problematic parents, and failing. Miserably I might add.”

He could see from the darkened expression that had crossed her face that he had struck a nerve but he wasn’t going to take it back, it was only the truth after all. If she didn’t hear it now, she was never going to change. But clearly, it seemed that she was much too stubborn to listen. He sighed. Honestly, he had just freed himself from one tantrum throwing child with daddy issues only to return to another one with even bigger mommy and daddy issues. ‘She still has a long way to go.’

“I don’t need to listen to you.” Replied Stephanie, standing up from her seat as she moved to leave.

She was done. She wasn’t going to take this from him, no matter how many times he had saved her life.

Death remained unbothered, his eyes turning back to his meal. “I don’t expect you to. It wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve disappointed me, Stephanie.”

Scowling, she stormed off, quickly exiting through the doors of O’Shaughnessy’s without taking a single glance back.

But as she marched back home, she could not deny how much the weight of the truth in his final words had hurt her. This was not how she had hoped their conversation would have went.

* * *

Sometimes, he just has to wonder why he even tries to begin with. Especially when they were never even going to listen to him in the first place. Then again, perhaps it was his fault. It was his fault for getting so attached to the young girl from the start, a misfortunate miscalculation on his part.

“You…”

Despite the exhaustion and pain that was wrecking through her entire fifteen-year-old body, she was still able to identify him as he stood at the side of her bed, his hands resting on his walking stick. His face, as judgemental as ever as he glanced down at her, unimpressed. Really, how many old men with slicked back hair in full black suits did she even know? Not a lot.

As Stephanie looked at him, she was suddenly very well aware that regardless of being in a room full of other people, there was an absolute silence that had settled between them. Glancing around the room, she came to the realisation that all the nurses and doctors were standing still, frozen as if all time had stopped.

“What did you do?” asked Stephanie, worriedly.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Tim in his Robin costume. In his arms, he cradled it gently – her baby.

“Don’t worry, they’re all very much alive and well.” Answered Death, before he gave her a sharp look. “Now you on the other hand…” He tsked, not even needing to finish the rest of his sentence for her to understand the heavy implications of his words.

‘Oh…’ Her heart sunk.

“I told you to leave him when you had the chance did I not?” Berated the older man. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so stubborn when I told you to leave that imbecile, you would not be in this current predicament,” he pointed at her, “dying from childbirth because your body was much too young to handle the burden of your human mistakes.”

He moved towards Tim, gazing down at the young infant in the boy’s arms. “Well, at least you’ve understood your limitations and have put the child up for adoption,” he told her. “A commendable decision, compared to the rest of your shortcomings.” He chastised.

“What are you?” He stared back at her; an unamused brow raised at her inquiry. “You’re not an Angel, are you?”

It was something that had been bothering her for a while. She knew he was not human; no, no human could do the half the things he had ever done in front of her. So, he had to be an Angel, right? Why else would he constantly be watching over her unless he was her guardian Angel?

Right?

Wrong.

Death was affronted.

“ _An Angel?_ Please, do not insult me, Stephanie.” He scoffed at the meagre assumption; he did not even dare to entertain the possibility. No, it was much too offensive to be considered one. “I think it is very obvious from the start who I am.” He stated before frowning. “What a shame as well.” He told her, turning away from her in disappointment. “I thought that you were a bright young child, my dear, but it appears I have been gravely mistaken.” He walked away, done with this conversation entirely.

As she realised the weight of his words, her blue eyes widened. She did not know what she did to offend him, but all she understood right now was that he was leaving, and that her window of opportunity was narrowly closing. If she did not reach him now, he would leave her to actually die, and she didn’t want that.

“Wait!”

He didn’t wait.

No, Death was done waiting for this mere mortal to understand.

Within seconds, he was gone, leaving her alone for death to come… or so she thought.

Suddenly, time unfroze, and she was once again pulled back into the world of the living. As the nurses and doctors came to her side, their words flew over her head with ease. Inside her mind, she could only think of the older man who she had once considered her best friend as a child.

She had been so sure about his identity, but now, she wasn’t so sure and his response in itself hadn’t exactly been useful. In fact, it had left her in even more in doubt than before.

Who was he?

* * *

As she laid bleeding out in a pool of her own blood in the cellar basement of some old warehouse in Gotham somewhere, she would never admit it but she was a tad bit disappointed to see that he had not come this time.

It had been almost two years since he had turned his back on her. Two years since she had last seen him. And she would be lying if she said that she had not looked for him, often visiting the places that she would expect to find him – sitting under the old yew tree in the local Gotham cemetery, or in his favourite booth at O’Shaughnessy’s eating whatever pizza it was that he was in the mood for that day.

But nothing, he was never there. And she didn’t expect him to be.

Especially not after how long she had kept him waiting. She had so many questions for him, questions that she could have easily gotten the answers to if she had not been so scared and had sought him out all those years ago when he had first offered to answer them. But no, she had not. Instead, she spent the next few years avoiding him – scared of learning the truth.

A truth that she had been so blind to see from the beginning.

Honestly, after the last conversation they shared, it was no surprise to her that he was finally done with her and had left for good. She had misidentified him as an ‘Angel’, she had called Death an Angel. There was just no greater insult than that.

And perhaps this was her punishment for it all.

For her ignorance, her disrespect – everything really.

Death had done nothing but shown her kindness throughout her entire life, and she had turned away from it, never once listening to him during her more troubling times when he had tried to talk to her.

Maybe if things had been different, and their friendship had not soured, perchance he would have told her from the start that her idea to steal a plan from Batman in order to prove herself to the Dark Knight was stupid. Possibly if he had, perhaps this whole gang war would have never started and she wouldn’t be in her current mess to begin with – dying from the fatality torturous wounds that the Black Mask had inflicted upon her.

‘He’s not coming.’ As she felt the last of her life finally slip away, she shut her eyes in defeat, her physical body finally unable to hold on any longer. “I’m sorry, Death.” She felt the tears drop from her eyes, streaking down her face.

She was done.

Or so she had thought.

When she came to, she found herself lying on an operating table, a white sheet covering her face. Sitting up, she let the cloth drop to her waist to reveal her fully healed naked body. Her wounds were gone, her skin smooth and unscarred, just like how she always came back whenever he saved her.

He had come back. That much was clear to her.

As she got off the table with the white sheet wrapped around her body, she noticed that there was a woman who had been watching her in silent mortification in the corner of the room. Stephanie didn’t know who she was, but what she did know was that she had to go somewhere.

It only took a dumbfounded Leslie Thompkins three seconds after the blonde had left the room to shift out of her stunned stupor, immediately chasing after the blonde teen who she had essentially declared dead an hour ago.

“Wait!”

“I’ll be back!” called back Stephanie, the blonde running down the hall, never once looking back.

It wasn’t long after she had gotten some clothes from one Doctor Thompkins when Stephanie found herself entering into O’Shaughnessy’s, a smile finding itself onto her lips as she spotted the sole customer still on site.

She moved towards Death, her eyes doing a quick scan of their surroundings. “I’m surprised this place is still opened after everything.” She told him, stopping by his booth. Her blue eyes dropped to the French fries and pizza set in front of him, his milkshake off to the side.

“They best as well be open.” Replied Death, he pointed a finger at the empty space across him. “Sit, child.”

Stephanie frowned, “I’m not a child anymore.” But regardless, she obligated and slid into the opposite booth. Much to her surprise, a waitress came and placed a plate of freshly made waffles in front of her. The blonde thanked her before the waitress moved away. “You ordered me waffles?” She was mildly surprised.

Death hummed, “well you don’t exactly order anything else when you’re here, Stephanie.”

“True.” Agreed Stephanie, picking up her set of cutleries. As she began cutting into her meal, she could not help but speak up. “Hey Death, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

Stephanie bit her bottom lip in uncertainty. “What should I do now?” She asked him, in all honesty. “I messed up so badly.” Admitted the blonde, ashamedly.

Death rolled his eyes, “badly is putting it mildly.” He told her, bluntly. “Not only did you cause a massive influx of souls to reap, but you even got yourself killed in the process.” His gaze held hers as he watched a pained expression etch across her face in guilt. Death sighed. “Look, I know that you meant well in your intentions but sometimes life doesn’t go your way.”

Stephanie sighed, her eyes dropping down to the table. “There’s no coming back from this is there?”

“No.” He did not hesitate in his response.

Stephanie bit her bottom lip, thinking back to the offer that Doctor Thompkins had given her before she had left to come find him. “Should I just leave Gotham then?” asked the blonde.

Death entertained the idea, it seemed logical enough. “Perhaps it is for the best.” Answered Death, a thoughtful expression on his face before he quickly added, “maybe then you’d stop getting killed every few years.” She winced at that statement, but it was true.

Soon there was a silence that enveloped them.

As Stephanie ate, there was only one burning question that remained on her mind – the main question that she truly wanted to the hear the answer to.

“Why did you do it?”

It had come out suddenly, out of the blue.

Death stilled in his actions; his eyes moved to stare at her. “Why did I do what, child?” He inquired.

“Why do you keep bringing me back if I just keep dying in the end?”

At that, he hummed to himself. His focus turning back to last few slices of pizza before him. If he had to be fair, he didn’t exactly have an answer to that very question of hers, not yet at least.

“I do wonder that myself.”

* * *

Following the aftermath of the Gang Wars in Gotham, and the declaration of her ‘death’, she had made the decision to leave her old life behind her, to start anew. She followed Doctor Thompkins to Africa, assisting her as a volunteer to provide medical assistance to those that desperately needed it. It had been awakening – the experience had opened her eyes to whole other life that she had never known before.

It had been so fulfilling, as though she had finally found her purpose in life. And for the first time in a long time, she was happy. Stephanie Brown was happy, and alive.

So far, she had been safe, sticking close to Doctor Thompkins and the rest of the medical professionals during their tour. It was close to almost a year now since they’ve arrived, and she has been fortunate enough to still be alive.

Perhaps Death had been right – leaving Gotham city itself had essentially increased her life expectancy. Sure, there were still some dangers out there, but that was to be expected when travelling in any other foreign country.

So, imagine her astonishment when the blonde had looked up to find a very familiar old man, standing by her patient’s bedside in Ethiopia.

She had dropped the clipboard in her hand as it clattered to the ground. “What are you doing here?” demanded Stephanie, quickly picking up the fallen item. She placed it back onto the patient’s bedside table for the next medic.

Death spared her a brief glance before staring down at the man on the medical bed. “Hello, Stephanie. I see that you are doing well, alive still.” He told her, dismissively. He leaned down towards the patient, who was only much too aware of his supernatural presence. The man sunk back further in his position, causing Death to chuckle. He pulled away from the patient. “Don’t worry, I have no planning on reaping you just yet.” He assured him, confidently.

“Death.” The older man met her gaze, and suddenly, she was whisked away.

To where? She didn’t know.

Her blue eyes scanned across the sea of blissful orange sands that littered across the horizon, she didn’t see a single hint of civilisation in site. He didn’t… “Are we in the Sahara Desert?”

“Beautiful is it not?” Noted Death. “Oh, don’t be so fussed, you weren’t that far away from it to begin with.”

She folded her arms across her chest, “why are we here?”

“Well, we’re away from prying eyes and listening ears, are we not?” He told her before sighing, “hold your hand out.” She obligated as he dropped a silver ring into her open palm.

Stephanie raised a brow, picking up the ring to take a closer inspection. Much to her surprise, the ring transformed before her very eyes. The once wide silver band slimmed as the rectangular shaped white stone shrunk to form a smaller circular centre piece. Looking at its altered size and shape, she did not doubt for a second that it would fit her perfectly, and as much as she’d love to try it on right now, she was also very aware of the dangers that may come along once she did.

“What is this?”

“My ring, dear child.”

‘Death’s ring.’ She did not need to hear anymore to understand what he was asking of her. And just like that, all the pieces in her head were finally fitting together.

He stared at her, glancing down at the ring in her hand before looking back up to her face. “You understand what this means, yes?” asked Death.

“Is this why you never let me die? So that I would take over your place when I was old enough?” queried Stephanie, her blue eyes never once looking away from his face, disappointedly. Was that all she had been to him? A replacement?

For a moment, Death did not respond.

“Not exactly.” He told her, honestly. “I guess you could say that we all have our darlings in life, and you were mine. A daughter I never had.” Said Death, admittingly. A faint ghost of a smile adored his lips for a brief moment as he spoke. “They say that you should kill your darlings, but I guess in my case, the world always seemed to kill you first.”

Stephanie gulped, almost afraid to ask. “So, what changed?”

His smile dropped from his lips, his eyes meeting hers. “I have a little tingling sensation that one Dean Winchester will not hold his end of the bargain. I wouldn’t be surprised if he finally killed me with my own scythe.” Stated Death, simply. “He already lures me enough with food.”

“Well, why does he have your death scythe in the first place?” inquired Stephanie, confused.

“Because I gave it to him. Funny isn’t it, how little parasites like him just have a way with words.” Responded Death, the blatant sarcasm dripping from his tone. Before he could say anymore, he sensed it. It appears that it was time for him to go, he would at least hope that Dean would have good food prepared for him this time. “It seems like I must go.” He told her.

“Wait,” interrupted the blonde, refusing to let him go just yet. There were still so many questions that she had to ask him, still so much more that she needed to know. He couldn’t just do this to her, he couldn’t just dump all his responsibilities on her – she wasn’t even ready for this.

As if sensing her internal distress, Death placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew what he was doing was very sudden, and probably a big shock for the blonde teen, but he had faith in her. He had faith that she would do just fine, at least until the next Death was properly selected. Until then, she would hold on to his ring and his position for him. The world needed a Death, and he sure as hell was going to make sure that if the universe was going to off him, he would at least be able to choose his successor first.

“Don’t worry, Stephanie. You’ll be fine.”

Sensing the finality in his tone, she moved forward, pulling him into a hug. Tears began streaming down her face as the realisation finally hit her, this truly was the end – the final goodbye. In a rare act of humanity, Death returned that hug, patting the sobbing girl’s back. It had been years since she’s hugged him like this, the last time had been when she was five years old. But still, it was nice.

It was nice way to go.

“It seems a little lonely at first, but eventually you will find your own darlings, your favourites that you don’t want to be killed.”

As she heard his voice fade away, she looked back up to see that she had returned to the initial medical station, her patient now asleep. No doubt Death’s doing. As she wiped her tears from her face, she took a hard-long stare at the silver ring in her palm. His legacy.

She was torn, so unsure of what to do. But the longer she looked at it, deep down she already knew what she was going to do. Sighing, she gave in to her faith, slipping the thin silver band onto her finger.

She became Death.

* * *

The moment she had slipped the silver ring on, she had imminently learnt that her existence had been wiped off the face of the Earth. Well, at least to all those that had known of her during her time in Africa. The people whom she had left behind in Gotham, they already thought she was dead, so there hadn’t really been much of a change there.

In retrospect, she should have probably asked Death for a guide on this, she didn’t know what to expect going into the whole being Death thing but it was fine. The moment she had accepted the duty bestowed upon her; it seems like all the knowledge about the world that came along with being Death had entered her brain. It was as though it had always been there from the start, which was great because it all finally made sense.

But also saddening because suddenly she understood that her life would never be the same ever again. She was bound by a sworn duty now, one with the heavy-hearted duty of reaping souls – many who she soon learnt were never so eager to part from the land of the living.

At nineteen years old, or at least she would have been nineteen if she had still aged, Stephanie Brown has travelled far and across the globe. And in honesty, she had to agree with Death, Earth truly was one measly tiny little planet. In the span of a year, she had seen so much, enough to understand why Death had been so done as he was. She was amazed, it’s only been a year and she’s already had enough with this life he had lived millenniums for.

It was so lonely, so burdensome.

There was just so much responsibility that came along with being Death, too much for a girl who had been barely eighteen years old at the time to take on.

As she found herself navigating through the crowded streets of London, she could not help but pause in her pondering, felt the slight tingle of a sensation. One that was well acquainted to her. Giving in to the physiological pull, she allowed herself to be whisked away to where duty called, only to find herself in an overly familiar place – Gotham.

It was not that she had not been back at all since she left, no, in fact it had been one of the first places she had teleported to after becoming Death. She had taken herself to see her mom, to see how Crystal Brown was trying but struggling to pick up the pieces that had been left behind by her broken family. It had been devastating, she had so desperately wanted to reach out and hug her mom but there had been something that stopped her – an invisible force that just did not allow her to move further.

And so, she had left, coming back to Gotham every few months at a time to check in on her darling mother.

But the Gotham she was standing it right now was very much a far cry from the Gotham she had seen the last time she visited. 

It did not take her very long to find the soul source of her tingling sensations.

A young boy, who must have barely been ten years old stood off to a side. But perhaps the most striking feature that stood out to the blonde would be the costume that he wore – more specifically, the ‘R’ embedded on his chest. Robin, the new Robin.

No, this was not her Robin, it was not her Tim who she had once replaced. It was an entirely other person, one who truly did take the mantle away from the boy she had once loved. This was Damian Wayne.

_“It seems a little lonely at first, but eventually you will find your own darlings, your favourites that you don’t want to be killed.”_

As she stared at him, she could not help but smile to herself. Well, she supposed she had finally found it hadn’t she? Her very own little ‘darling’.

Moving towards him, she was not surprised that he had soon sensed her presence, spinning around to face her. His body on high alert, ready to pounce at her at any moment without a single hesitation. Her blue eyes dropped to the gashing wound across his chest, one that was most definitely his final finishing blow. ‘Well, that’s one hell of a way to go.’

“Who are you?” demanded Damian, fiercely. His hands moving to his weapons, only to slowly realise that he had none. Or at least, he could not access them as he had originally used to.

Stephanie offered him a smile, one that she always showed when it came to meeting souls for the first time. “Me? Well, you can call me, Stephanie.” She told him, putting her hands up to show him that she was unarmed. “And well, I guess you could say that I certainly know a lot about you, _Damian Wayne_.”

At the drop of his birth name, the boy took a step back, dropping down into a fighting stance. He was even more certain that she was a threat now, and clearly one that was not human considering his circumstances. “What are you?” asked Damian, more cautious this time. His green eyes narrowing from behind his mask as he assessed the blonde-haired girl before him.

She seemed harmless enough, wearing a knee length black dress with matching heeled boots, and an opened black trench coat thrown over her shoulders. Yet, there was something about her, something that unnerved all his senses. His instincts were practically screaming at him to get away, that there something more sinister lurking behind those smirking blue eyes. She was dangerous; very dangerous.

“I’m Stephanie, Stephanie Brown.” Answered the blonde, her smile widening at the look of irritation that crossed his features. ‘My, this will be fun.’

Damian gnashed his teeth, “that’s not what I asked.”

Stephanie shrugged. “You asked a question; I gave you an answer.” She told him, dismissively.

“Where am I?”

“Gotham,” Damian sent her a glare, only for her to burst out into a chuckle. Alright, she was done pulling his leg right now. “Somewhere in the in-between.” Said Stephanie, her tone much more serious now. “So, if I were to reap you right now, it’ll be all over.” She took a step forward, only for the younger boy to take one back. ‘How cute.’ Now she only hoped he was smart enough not to try and run.

He brought his fist up, ready to defend himself if it came to it. “Don’t come closer.” Warned Damian.

“Oh, don’t worry. If I wanted you reaped, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now.” Admitted the blonde, truthfully. Honestly, it was not that hard to reap people. Suddenly, a thought popped into her mind as she grinned at him. “Say, why don’t we go for a meal, Damian?”

Within seconds, Damian found himself sitting in a random booth in an unfamiliar diner he quickly identified as O’Shaughnessy’s. From a brief glance at the skyline outside, he confirmed that he was still in Gotham at least. Across him, the blonde flippantly scanned the menu.

”I heard the pizza here is amazing.” Said Stephanie, before she glanced up at the suddenly silent Robin. “Oh, no need to be shy, the meals on me.” Her eyes moving to gaze back down at the menu, the smile on her face never leaving. She was going to enjoy spending time with Damian, well, at least until she had to resurrect him. But until then, she was going to cherish the company while it lasted.

When Damian Wayne was resurrected, the first thing he did was embrace his father. The man who had fought so hard to bring him back to the land of the living, and for that, he was eternally grateful and pleased. The next thing, was to ask the one burning question that had rested on his mind ever since he had died.

“Father,” said the young boy, suddenly pulling away from the tired man.

“Who is Stephanie Brown?”

* * *

**Epilogue**

She sat in the small Parisian café, her ringed hand patiently resting on the ceramic tea cup as she stared out the window. She heard the sounds of the chair across her being dragged against the ground before smiling to herself as she took a quick sip. Her blue eyes never once looking away from the distant Parisian sight. “About time you got promoted.” Said the blonde.

Placing the cup back down, she moved to slide the silver band off her finger as she held it out for Billie to take. For a moment, Billie stared at it before looking back at the blonde girl who she had once almost reaped as a very young child.

“I’ve been holding onto this thing for way longer than I would have liked.” Admitted Stephanie, tiredly with an assuring smile. Billie took the ring, transforming in its appearance before she slipped it onto her own finger. “Can’t believe it took this long for a replacement to come about.”

“And what are you going to do now? Now, that you’re finally free from all of this, Stephanie?” asked Billie, a tad bit curious.

At that, the blonde young woman shrugged. “Oh, you know,” replied Stephanie, a grin on her lips. “Continue my life like normal, and maybe greet death like an old friend once in a while.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> When I had first posted ‘Super Natural’, there were a few responses for a potential crossover with the actual CW Supernatural series, and it got me thinking about a crossover. And then this story idea happened. It was the crossover that I never knew I needed but wanted. 
> 
> (On the other note, ‘Super Natural’ is not a crossover. It’s an AU pulling aspects from the Supernatural universe.)
> 
> Also, if it was not obvious enough from this fic and the picture above, Death 1.0 was my favourite Supernatural character in the whole series. I love Billie too, but the original Death was just so memorable for me. He was a delightful character to write.


End file.
